


Compelled

by HeartlessMemo



Series: What We Create In October Challenge! [4]
Category: What We Do in the Shadows (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, Angst, Dark Guillermo Universe, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dom/sub, Familiars, Hypnosis, M/M, Phobias, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Trauma, Slavery, WWC2020, What We Create in October
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:00:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26823307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeartlessMemo/pseuds/HeartlessMemo
Summary: Guillermo learns the extent of Nandor's hypnosis phobia. Set in the early days, pre-Guillermo the Heartless.
Relationships: Guillermo de la Cruz/Nandor the Relentless
Series: What We Create In October Challenge! [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1947952
Comments: 9
Kudos: 29





	Compelled

**Author's Note:**

> This here fic fulfills days 4 and 5 of the What We Create in October challenge (Glitter and Hypnosis). The glitter ref is blink-and-you'll-miss-it, but it's there!.  
> Thanks so much to [interrobam](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Interrobam/pseuds/Interrobam) for being my beta reader and muse for this story!  
> And, as always, thanks to everyone who follows this story and encourages me! Especially Meli, Duv, Poppy, Claire, El and Ash! There are so many things that have happened in Dark Gigi that I could not have dreamed of without you guys lending me your brains!  
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy this angsty interlude...

Nandor likes the front garden. Even at nighttime, when the flowers are asleep, it’s a peaceful place to escape. After Guillermo finishes with his training each evening he’s allowed to do what he will, so long as he doesn’t leave the grounds. Some nights Nandor is too frightened to leave the crypt. Some nights he wants to stay at his master’s side even after he’s dismissed. But some nights, like tonight, he feels a small bit of curious bravery.

A big maple tree grows by the stone wall that encloses the yard. Nandor looks up through its branches at the full moon, wrapping his fingers around the edge of the little stone bench where he sits. He thinks about his new master. Guillermo makes him feel strange. There’s fear, of course. Vampires are powerful and cruel; they’re not to be trusted. Guillermo’s made it clear what he wants from Nandor-- the same thing they all want: sex, submission, subservience. But… Nandor’s stomach feels funny around this new master. He obeys Guillermo not because he fears the consequences of doing wrong, but because he yearns to be good for him. When he’s good, Guillermo smiles and it’s like a ray of sunlight is shining on his miserable soul. 

And when he’s bad? When Nandor forgets the rules and flinches from Guillermo’s hand? Or when he can’t make himself speak even though his master demands it? The consequence is his master’s disappointment. Not pain. Not starvation. Not blood loss to the point of near-death. Disappointment. And it’s enough to cut Nandor’s soul, to make him seek forgiveness and long to do better. He is starting to feel something he can’t remember ever feeling. He barely remembers the word for it. Safety. It’s terrifying.

The night is filled with soothing sounds: distant traffic on the highway, crickets singing in the grass, garage doors opening and closing, screen doors slamming, dogs barking. Little domestic, neighborhood sounds. Nandor pretends that he is a normal human. Maybe he lives here with his husband. The idea of being married to his master brings a smile to his lips. It’s silly and impossible. The swooping feeling in his stomach feels nice, though.

All of a sudden, the peace is shattered. 

“OOF! I say! A little assistance? Human thralls!”

It’s Laszlo. Nandor’s fingers tighten around the stone bench, his knuckles going white. Sweat breaks out on his palms. Laszlo, whose bite feels like stinging heat piercing his flesh. Laszlo who looks at Nandor with hungry, predator eyes. 

Nandor waits with his breath in his throat, hoping that one of the thralls will respond before the impulse to obey, to serve, overtakes him. But then Laszlo calls out a second time, anger tinging his voice, and Nandor rises without a conscious decision. 

He finds the vampire waist deep in a sinkhole in the backyard. He’s wearing a grotesque-looking hat that appears to be...breathing? Nandor approaches haltingly, ducking his head to hide behind long curtains of hair and looking up at Laszlo through his lashes. He doesn’t speak, waiting to be addressed. 

Laszlo rolls his eyes. “Well, help me out, you magnificent dullard!” He holds his arms out expectantly.

Nandor swallows, leaning down from his great height and taking the vampire’s cold hands in his. His fingers wrap around Laszlo’s small palms, tightening in a sure grip despite the fright and anxiety stirring in his stomach. He tugs, leaning his weight into the motion and painstakingly dragging the vampire out of the earth. Once freed Laszlo floats for a moment, suspended in the air and dripping muck, before landing in front of the human with a look of casual intention on his face.

“Well done, familiar.” He adjusts his doublet, sneering at the splattered mud marring the rich fabric and then locking eyes with Nandor. “Now let's just wipe that little brain of yours, shall we?” He holds up his hand; Nandor loses control. 

The sound that comes from Nandor’s mouth wakes their next door neighbor, Charmaine, from her wine-addled slumber. It startles everyone in the vampire household: the thralls look at one another with dread on their faces; Nadja pauses in cataloging her skull collection long enough to sneer in annoyance; Guillermo looks up from his reading, confusion and suspicion written on his cold features. Laszlo is surprised enough that he does nothing to stop Nandor when he bolts away. 

Nandor can’t see. He can’t hear. He can’t smell or think or breathe. There’s no conscious decision-making happening. He acts on pure instinct, racing across the front yard past the stone bench, past the big maple tree, out through the front gate. His feet fly over the cement sidewalk, aimless. He swivels his head from side to side in search of someplace safe. He ends up wedged under a hedge in the neighbor’s yard, hugging his knees, his cheek resting on the dirty ground. Time and space blur. He’s hiding from Simon. From Laszlo. From Guillermo? He’s at the Sassy Cat. An orgy. The house on Staten Island. Some place vague called “home.” 

Ages pass. Or maybe minutes. His heart hammers in his chest, his breath comes out in bursts. Stars spark in his eyes. A high-pitched sound in his ears is vaguely recognizable as his own crying. When he hears footsteps approaching his hiding place, Nandor is too distraught to remember that a stalking vampire makes no noise unless they wish to. He draws his knees in closer to his chest and holds his breath. 

Guillermo’s soft voice calls, “Nandor? Where can my Nandor be? I hope he’s not lost. Or hurt.” The vampire walks by the shrub, Nandor watches his silver, glittery dress shoes go past. “I hope I find him before the sun comes up.”

Nandor desperately wants to emerge from his hiding place. He wants to rush to his master and bury himself in Guillermo’s arms. Or fall to his knees at his feet where he belongs. But a cloying fear keeps him rooted to the spot. Nandor ran away. He left the grounds; he’s not allowed to leave the grounds. Master will punish him. Simon hurt him so bad the last time he tried to escape…

Guillermo’s feet stop several feet away, at the edge of Nandor’s tear-blurred vision. His voice interrupts the spiral of Nandor’s thoughts. “I think something must have frightened him,” Guillermo muses, “to make him run off like this. I hope he knows I’m not angry… he won’t be in trouble if he comes out of his hiding place…”

A link breaks in the chain that binds him in silence and stillness. His arm moves of its own volition, reaching out from beneath the bush for Guillermo.

“Master!” he cries, his voice ragged from disuse and heavy with tears.

Guillermo kneels down on the grass, his face appearing in the space between the ground and the bottom of the shrub. His perfectly arched eyebrows are drawn up in concern, his lips pout into a frown and his liquid, deep chocolate eyes hold Nandor’s gaze with gentle intensity. He takes Nandor’s hand in his. The human doesn’t notice the chill temperature of Guillermo’s skin; he’s too caught up in the tingling where their fingers meet. 

“C’mon out, baby,” Guillermo coaxes, the pet name falling naturally from his lips. 

Nandor sniffs back his tears and shimmies out from under the bush, scratching his arms against the branches and dragging the back of his shirt in the dirt. When he emerges his hair is an absolute shambles-- a riotous nest tangled with twigs and leaves. Guillermo pulls him to his feet, reaching up and grooming out the worst of the mess as best he can. Nandor ducks his head to allow his master better access. Guillermo is shorter than Nandor, but the vampire seems to occupy more space by the power of his personality alone. 

“Can you tell me what happened?” he asks absently, plucking debris from Nandor’s long locks. 

Nandor watches his master’s face, alert for any signs of impending anger. Guillermo hasn’t shown himself to be as capricious as Simon, but deep down Nandor knows it can only be a matter of time. He catches Guillermo’s eye and nods his head, though the words die on his tongue. 

“Do you want to whisper it to me?” Guillermo asks. He’s grown familiar with his human’s idiosyncrasies at this point. When Nandor is overwhelmed or frightened he tends to grow quiet, losing the hardwon capacity for speech he'd gained only after weeks of gentle training. 

In answer, Nandor leans forward, fisting his hands in the shoulders of Guillermo’s sweater and pressing his lips close to his ear. His voice is barely there, explaining the incident with Laszlo in stuttery, halting terms. Guillermo puts his arms around the man, rubbing his back as the story trickles from his lips. 

Nandor feels the tension and anxiety gradually drain from his limbs as his master listens and touches him without anger. When he finishes explaining what happened, Guillermo turns his face to look at him and Nandor is so close that their lips almost touch. Nandor breathes in the magic air of their almost kiss as Guillermo speaks.

“So, it was the threat of hypnosis, then? I thought maybe Laszlo had…” he trails off. His voice is stern, though not emotional. He would be angry with Laszlo for touching his property without asking first, nothing more.

Nandor nods and tears spill over his cheeks as he answers, “Yes, master. Simon would do that to me... a lot. And... and I can’t…” Nandor struggles with the request... the plea that sits on the tip of his tongue. Familiars cannot ask things of their masters. But so many rules are different with this new master. “Please, don’t let him do that to me, master.” He breaks into a sob and lets his head fall to Guillermo’s shoulder.

Guillermo hushes him, glancing at the darkened windows of their neighbors' house. “Are you ready to come home, baby?” he asks, ignoring Nandor’s pleading altogether. 

Nandor nods into Guillermo’s sweater and the vampire leads him home, allowing him to cling needily all the way back.

\---

Guillermo puts Nandor to bed early, tucking him in himself and placing a kiss on his forehead before leaving the crypt with the door slightly ajar. Nandor dozes, tears dried and smiling slightly as he recalls his master’s sweet lips on his forehead. Guillermo. Guillermo. Guillermo. Sometimes Nandor lies awake and allows himself to explore all the secret, soft, forbidden emotions that his new master makes him feel. He’s almost asleep when the voices in the hallway pull him back to consciousness. 

“What do you mean, we cannot hypnotize him?!” Nadja’s voice rises to a shrill screech. 

Guillermo's response is resolute and calm, “I mean no one fucking hypnotizes my familiar. End of discussion.”

Nandor strains his ears to hear more but the voices fade away. He sighs, his eyelids growing heavy. Guillermo’s words drift lazily through his mind.  _ No one hypnotizes my familiar… _ A half-formed question stirs in his thoughts, but it dissipates before he can grasp it. He falls asleep with a smile on his face and a stray, hopeful thought flitting through his mind-- something about his master leaving the door open on purpose.


End file.
